The Measure of a Heart

by Janette Oke

  The small body pressed warmly to her bosom was a measure of comfort to Anna. At least she was providing adequately for baby Rachael. She wasn’t a total failure. And then her eyes fell on the simple, mended garment that had been washed so many times it was getting thin, and the tears begin to flow in spite of Anna’s resolve. She had failed Rachael as well.

  From the kitchen came the chatter of young Maggie and the soft voice of Austin as he responded. Her whole family had depended on her and she . . .

  Just when Anna had reached her lowest spirits, Rachael turned from her nursing and looked up at her mother. A contented smile lit her blue eyes and her chubby cheeks dimpled as she smiled and cooed, her eyes intent on Anna’s face.

  “You don’t know, do you? You don’t realize that I’ve let you down. You think all that matters is that you’re fed and diapered and—and loved.”

  The baby reached for the simple brooch on Anna’s blouse. Her coos turned to bubble blowing.

  Anna’s vision blurred. She loved her babies. Loved her family. She did wish—did long to care for them better.

  She lifted Rachael to coax up a burp and snuggled the tiny body against her shoulder. She needed the warmth, the comfort. She needed to feel that life had purpose—reason. That even in its confusion it made some kind of sense.

  Rachael managed to get tiny fingers tangled in her mother’s hair and soon had pins worked out and strands of hair falling about Anna’s ears.

  “You are sure making a mess of Mama,” Anna softly scolded as she unwrapped the fingers, then drew them to her lips. Rachael responded with a squeal.

  “Mama,” called Maggie from the kitchen. “Mama, Papa an’ me is all done.”

  “Did you clean up your plate?” asked Anna automatically and instantly remembered her own full plate of food.

  “Yep, I did,” answered Maggie and Anna heard Austin softly correct, “Yes, I did.”

  “Papa did, too,” called Maggie, misinterpreting Austin’s words. Anna heard Austin chuckle. It was a welcome sound. Anna hoped that his heaviness had passed. That he had been able to shake it better than she had.

  Anna spent the next days mending, cleaning, pressing—and still her wardrobe was painfully inadequate. At last she broached the subject with Austin again. “I think that the girls and I will just stay home this year. By next year, perhaps Rachael will be trained and it will be much easier to attend.”

  Austin did not argue. He just answered softly, “Are you sure?”

  Anna nodded. She hated to miss the opportunity of gathering with the other women. She hated to lose the chance for a good talk with Mrs. Angus. She hated to miss out on the tasty food, the laughter, the fellowship. But she did not want to disgrace her husband by appearing in worn garments, with two daughters dreadfully lacking in proper attire.

  “I’ll miss you,” said Austin simply, but then the matter was dropped.

  On the day of departure, Anna had Austin’s suit brushed and pressed and waiting. It was showing wear in a number of spots, but at least it was clean. His shoes were polished until they glowed—and the worn toe did not show too much. Anna had used a little stove blackening under the polish.

  Anna bade him a cheerful goodbye, straightening his tie and fixing the new collar so that it “set” properly. “I’ll miss you,” he said again as he embraced her.

  Anna managed a smile. “It won’t be long and you’ll be home again,” she assured him. “And remember, I want to know all the news. Keep notes if you have to.”

  He smiled. Anna expected a bit of teasing, but he just nodded his head in promise.

  Austin kissed his little girls and turned to Anna one more time.

  “If you need anything, call on Mr. Brady,” he reminded her. Anna nodded.

  “Bye, then.” “Bye,” responded Anna, and then adding one last thought, she reached out and straightened an errant lapel, “Don’t forget,” she whispered to him, “don’t take your coat off.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  News

  “Where is Papa?” Maggie asked for what seemed to Anna to be the hundredth time.

  “Papa is at Conference,” she answered evenly.

  “Why?”

  “Because Papa had to go.” Anna had tried to explain in fuller detail earlier, but the small girl had not understood. Now Anna shortened the exchange with a simple “Because.”

  “Why not me?” asked Maggie, pouting.

  “Next time, perhaps,” responded Anna.

  “But I wanted this time,” said Maggie, her chin lifting in her defiance. “I tell Papa, ‘This time.’ ”

  Anna nodded. She was busy folding laundered diapers and her thoughts were on the threadbare material rather than her daughter’s disappointment at being left behind.

  They are so thin, she mused to herself and then heard Maggie’s “I not thin” as she stood to full height and puffed out her little chest.

  “Not you,” said Anna with a smile in spite of her troubled spirit. “Rachael’s diapers. They are hardly worth putting on anymore.”

  Maggie reached out a hand to rub one of the folded diapers.

  “If only I had some more material,” continued Anna, though she knew that her little daughter had no idea what she was talking about, “I could sew Rachael some new didies.”

  “Maggie, too?”

  “Maggie doesn’t need didies. Maggie is a big girl.” Anna was glad she had only one child needing diapering.

  Rachael squealed and Maggie climbed from the kitchen chair where she had been watching her mother and ran to her baby sister. Anna scarcely heard the giggles and chatter.

  The Indian mothers used to use soft moss, she was telling herself. But I have no idea where one would find any.

  Anna’s thoughts traveled on. I wonder if there is anything else that might work. Feathers? No. Feathers would never do. There’d be no way to wash and dry them as needed. Surely—surely I have something around here I could spare so I could make new diapers.

  But Anna could think of nothing. She was already down to one sheet on her bed. She was short as it was of tea towels. They had no more bath towels or hand towels than they absolutely needed. All the usable materials from the last missionary barrel had already been used. There seemed to be nothing. Nothing.

  Wool, thought Anna suddenly. Wool might work.

  But Anna could think of no local farmers who raised sheep.

  And then Anna thought of the quilt on their bed. “It has wool,” she reasoned aloud. “I could take a bit from the edges.”

  Anna went to their bedroom and lifted a corner of their comforter. Carefully she examined it to determine where she could remove some of the batting without doing too much damage to the quilt. It might work. She removed the comforter and took it with her to the kitchen table. From this corner and that corner, and all along her side, she stole from the quilt, then restitched the seams.

  With her little bunches of wool spread out before her, Anna began her task. She worked the wool with her fingers until she had it fluffy. Then she divided and shaped soft little piles. One by one she unfolded the worn diapers and inserted a piece of her precious wool in the center of each. The diapers took on a fluffier look, and Anna was sure they would be much better for Rachael. She wished she had more wool and then remembered that she didn’t have any more diapers anyway. She was down to ten. That meant constant washings and struggles to get them dry on rainy or cool days. But she was managing and Rachael didn’t seem any the worse for her lack.

  “Don’t bite,” she heard Maggie cry suddenly, and the sharp comment was followed by a loud wail.

  Anna turned from the table to hurry to her child.

  “What happened?” she asked the crying Maggie.

  “Rachael bite me,” the girl managed through her tears.

  “Babies don’t have teeth,” Anna reminded Maggie. She lifted the little girl, prepared to assure her that Rachael’s bites were hardly worth all the fuss, but as she observed the finger that Maggie was h
olding out to her she did see a tiny mark.

  “Whatever—?” she began but Maggie interrupted.

  “She bite me,” she maintained. “An’ I didn’t even bite her.”

  Rachael, who had been looking bewildered about all of the commotion, suddenly joined in the crying. Anna didn’t know which daughter to try to comfort first.

  “Rachael didn’t mean to bite you,” she began to explain to Maggie, but Maggie was in no mood to listen.

  “She did,” she argued. “She just put her mouth like this—right at me—and she just bite my finger like this—hard.”

  She demonstrated.

  “I know,” said Anna. “I know that she bit your finger, but she didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Then why did she do it hard?” cried Maggie.

  Anna eased herself to the floor and managed to lift both daughters onto her lap.

  “Let Mama see,” said Anna and Maggie held out her finger again. Yes, it did look like a little tooth mark.

  “I didn’t think Rachael had teeth—” she began.

  Maggie interrupted through her tears, “Not teeth. I—I think Rachael has a needle.”

  Anna smiled. It may have felt like a needle to Maggie.

  Anna turned her attention back to Rachael, who had stopped her crying and was studying her older sister with inquisitive eyes. The tears still glistened on the little round cheeks and clung to the long lashes, but Rachael seemed more amused than frightened now.

  Anna tried again to calm Maggie and gradually the tears subsided.

  “Now, let’s check,” Anna said to Maggie, a trace of excitement in her voice. “Remember that when Rachael was born, Mama told you the baby had no teeth. Well, maybe she has one now. That means our baby is starting to grow up.”

  Maggie still looked doubtful, though her crying had turned to sniffles.

  “Let’s check, shall we?” Anna asked again and shifted Maggie on her knee so that she could turn her attention to little Rachael.

  Anna eased Rachael toward her and held her chin with one hand while she reached out a finger to check the little one’s mouth. Anna already knew that Rachael hated being “checked” and she was ready for a protest.

  But it was Maggie who responded. “Don’t,” she squealed, pushing Anna’s finger away from the danger zone. “She bites!”

  “I’ll be careful,” assured Anna and began the procedure again.

  Yes, there was a little tooth. And yes, it was extremely sharp. Anna discovered just how sharp when the little tot champed down on her exploring finger. It was all that Anna could do to keep from responding with a little cry.

  “Does she?” asked Maggie. “Does she got a tooth?”

  Anna nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, she has a tooth all right.”

  Her finger still smarted.

  “Will Papa be happy?” asked Maggie, wiping tears.

  “Yes, Papa will be happy,” answered Anna.

  “Then he better come home—quick,” said Maggie, “so we can tell him. Else he won’t know nothin’ at all ’bout Rachael’s tooth.”

  Maggie gave her hand a little flourish and shrugged her tiny shoulders.

  “Papa will be home tomorrow,” Anna reminded her.

  “Tomorrows are long times,” observed Maggie.

  “Not so long. Just one more sleep,” replied Anna. But she admitted to herself that the four days of Austin’s absence had seemed like a long time to her, too.

  Anna lifted the two girls from her knees and got up from the floor rug.

  “Should we tell him ’bout the tooth, or should we s’prise?” asked Maggie, all trace of tears now gone.

  “Surprise, how?” asked Anna.

  Maggie shrugged again but her eyes began to take on a glint. “Just let Rachael chew his thumb,” she said simply. “Then he’ll know.”

  Anna nodded. He’d know, all right. If Rachael chewed with the same voracity that she had just champed on her mother’s finger.

  “I think we’d better tell him,” she said to Maggie and Maggie looked just a bit disappointed.

  The whole family was glad to see Austin arrive back home the following day. Maggie shouted her pleasure and at once pounced on Austin with scores of questions and animated tales of what had happened while he’d been gone. Rachael squealed and waved chubby hands. Anna was the most restrained, but the most deeply affected. The house had seemed so empty with Austin gone. It was the first they had been separated since her one trip home. She hadn’t realized what a big piece of herself would be missing while he was away.

  Throughout the afternoon, Austin thought of little bits of news to pass on to Anna. “Everyone missed you,” he informed her. “They sent their love. Mrs. Angus said to be sure to greet you for her.”

  “How is she?” she asked Austin. Anna truly had missed seeing the elderly woman with her gentle ways.

  “I think she looks a bit better than last year. I guess retirement is giving her a bit of a chance to rest.”

  Anna was pleased with the news.

  Anna also heard that Milt Smith had needed an emergency appendectomy. That Mrs. Buttle was expecting another child. That Reverend Willis was having some serious eye problems. His wife now had to read all the materials for his sermon preparation to him. Mrs. Giles was feeling much better after her operation. The little Thomas boy had broken his leg in a fall from a swing. And Miss Small, the college dean, was planning to be married after forty years of spinsterhood.

  “I saw Mrs. Whiting,” went on Austin. “She is the new Ladies’ Aid president. She wondered if there was anyone in our community who could use another missionary barrel.”

  Anna held her breath.

  “What did you say?” she finally asked when she realized that Austin was not going to volunteer his answer.

  “I told her that you were very good at making use of the items yourself and that with two growing girls you often sewed. She said she’d keep that in mind when they made up the barrel.”

  Anna felt a little prayer of thanks well from her heart.

  “Did she say when they might send one?” she asked softly, trying hard not to get too impatient.

  “She said they’d work on it next meeting,” replied Austin, offhandedly.

  Next meeting. Anna began to calculate. She should have some materials to work with well before another winter set in.

  But Austin was speaking again.

  “I must get to work on my Sunday sermon,” he said to Anna. Then continued, “At least I feel that I have something to preach about again.”

  Anna did not understand the comment. But with Maggie clamoring for attention and Rachael wanting her supper, she did not have time to ask for an explanation.

  It wasn’t until the girls had been tucked in bed for the night that Austin and Anna had an opportunity to really talk.

  “I’m sorry you had to miss Conference,” he told her. “I think that it was the best we’ve ever had.”

  “Best? How?” asked Anna.

  “The most . . . encouraging. Refreshing. Challenging,” responded Austin.

  Anna looked at her husband. He did look refreshed. Again she felt sorrow that she had remained at home. She could have used some encouragement. Some refreshing.

  “I admit,” continued Austin, “that I was feeling rather down when I left. Defeated. I even wondered if I had really been called to the ministry, or if I had just assumed it on my own. I was seriously wondering if I should quit.”

  Anna’s eyes widened.

  “I mean,” hurried on Austin, “my family have all been involved in one kind of ministry or another. I wondered if I just thought—well—that I should be, too. But—but nothing was happening—”

  Austin stopped and rubbed his hand over his heavy thatch of hair and let his fingers curl around the nape of his neck.

  Anna felt her chest tighten. It was her fault. Would Austin dare to say it?

  “Reverend Morris, the evangelist, brought some powerful sermons,” Austin went on
, “and the sharing times yielded some strange discoveries.”

  Anna waited.

  Austin let his hand drop from his neck and wrapped his long fingers around Anna’s slim ones.

  “Do you know that there were at least six other men who were sharing my same thoughts and feelings?”

  “Six men thought you should quit the ministry?” asked Anna, her voice trembling.

  Austin shook his head quickly. “No. No. Not me. They all thought they should quit. They thought that their ministry was ineffective. That they didn’t have the ability to be servants.”

  Anna could not believe her ears. She might be Austin’s problem, but she had nothing to do with the other men. Did she?

  “And then Reverend Angus got up and spoke to us all, the tears running down his face as he spoke. ‘Boys,’ he said. It was strange to be called boys. ‘Sons, don’t let Satan use that lie to destroy your ministry,’ he said. ‘You see, it’s his business to tell you that you are a failure. That you are letting God, the church, your families, yourselves down. Over the years of my ministry, he told me that many times, too. And I must admit, to my shame, that there were times when I believed him.’ ”

  “He said that?” breathed Anna, her large eyes widening in incredulity.

  Austin nodded. He lifted Anna’s hand and held it in both of his own.

  “ ‘God has called you—you are answerable only to Him,’ Reverend Angus said. ‘I don’t believe God keeps the same set of statistics that we as the church find it necessary to keep. How many calls? How many conversions? How many baptisms? Those are kept for our records. Because we need some sort of accounting. But God’s records are of another sort. How faithful to your calling? How concerned over lost souls? How willing to be obedient? How close a walk with Him? God doesn’t care so much about statistics. But about faithfulness, commitment, obedience, devotion. That’s what He wants to see. Growth. Personal growth.’ ”

  Austin stopped to struggle with emotion. Anna held her breath. She wasn’t sure what to say—how to respond.

  “I’ve been on the wrong track, Anna,” Austin managed at last. “I think I’ve been more concerned about—about success than—than obedience.”